


Odyssey

by Klarahhh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Character Study, M/M, Yuri is a cinnamon bun, breif description of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klarahhh/pseuds/Klarahhh
Summary: Yuri, labeled Lynx from the start, had never known anything outside of hatred and damnation. Yuri was always told he was perfect, yet was still remodeled to fit the scientists need or the greater picture that'd he never been able to see. It had never bothered him; not until he met Hound (Otabek).This is Yuri's story, from age eight to nineteen. A story of his journey to self-actualization: an odyssey.





	

The day was March first; Lynx had turned eight. On May fourth he- it- had come to the realization that the term monster, such an elementary word, was undoubtedly derogatory and did not run parallel with any nuance of fondness. He had learned that the smiles he was delivered, sparse as they were, were sardonic at best. Their words, which seemed to carry more weight than he believed possible, were acidic, vindictive, malevolent, perverse, and parasitic. At that point in time, there was no escape. Bruises faded and scars disappeared, but words would always fester within thoughts that float around in ones head. These were thoughts that, like the Fujinuma waters, broke an unstable dam within an already cracked psyche. 

The day was March first; Lynx had turned ten. The facility had grown bigger, there were new child assassins reprogrammed everyday, and there was a new boy who had reached the pinnacle of success within the scientist’s eyes: Hound.When Lynx had first laid eyes on him, he could feel the power simmering beneath the others boy's skin. His gait exuded a well of confidence that never seemed to dry; it was always borderline overflowing. With eyes like black pearls that seemed to be hand forged by Haphaestus himself, Lynx couldn’t help but be fascinated. However, he abhorred the other boy's presence; it was oppressive. Lynx felt as if his plain blonde hair, plain pale skin, and plain blue-green eyes were inadequate, and that his skills were being called into question. Ever since Hound's entrance, Lynx had failed to stop comparing the words he received to hound's own praise; although, he logically had known he was better. Lynx followed the rules, he got the job done, and, best of all; he was silent. Of course, the same couldn't be said for Hound. 

"Do you ever feel lonely?" Hound questioned, yet it had sounded like a statement..

Lynx considered it an ignorant question, and believed the notion of an assassin not being lonely was too much of a radical idea to mull over in his head. 

"The others did the same thing," Hound's voice was full of mirth as he spoke. "I just thought you'd be unique." 

Lynx scoffed at the thought of being grouped in with the others. They were obsolete. Lynx knew he was nothing in the eyes of humanity, but he also knew he wasn't worthless in regards to his skills. Lynx operated as if he danced on fire; the others danced on water. Without a word, or notice of the other boy's smirk, he left. 

The day was March first: Lynx had turned thirteen. There was no ceremony. There was no flashing lights or banners to proclaim any ones happiness of his astoundingly lengthy life. There were no annoyingly joyous aunts or uncles who only attend to boast about whimsical events with guests that didn't R.S.V.P. There were no screaming children worrying over whether or not their teenage friend would abandon them to be 'cool.' There was no semblance of humanity or endearment. There was only a mission. Lynx couldn't let himself be morose, only a few people were given that luxury. He didn't believe he was human enough to be one of them. 

The mission was a simple elimination. Those were as easy as breathing. He was to enter after stealing a key from the persistent drunk they foolishly labeled a bodyguard and slit the mark's throat in his drug induced sleep. No one would be home. It would be easy. There was no room for error. 

"You have my consent to have fun," One, his handler, had proclaimed. 

He waited until the sky was painted in dark hues of blue and the city's nightlife come to life before he headed out of the small apartment and left One behind. As Lynx ran his fingertips Lucille, an unmarked, onyx car, he checked his weapons and slipped in. After entering the building, Lynx dispatched the guard quite easily; he barely uttered a slurred word before crumbling to the ground. The key code was punched in, and Lynx quietly entered. 

"You're earlier than I expected. They really want me dead." 

Lynx only made a minuscule movement at his voice. He paused as he stared down the man who stood with sympathy in his eyes and composure in his stance. His short, white hair framed his face as he visibly took a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you-" his hands shifted which prompted Lynx to reach for his dagger, "I tried so hard, kids like you...they deserve help, they-" 

"You're going to die," Lynx stated as he wondered why this man even cared. 

The man stood with complacency. There was no fear. No somber atmosphere for a future lost. Lynx took a step towards the mark, wondering why he felt so human, and watched as the mans lips quirked into a final smile. There was an eerie hush as the body fell. The deafening silence made him choke on what he just did. He had never spoken to a mark before, and he had finally figured out why. The disgust he felt towards himself made him realize that the scientists were justified in their words. The nausea hit him like a brick, and all his sense felt as if they all came alive at once. 

Lynx broke protocol, an action he would soon regret, for the first time. He didn't flee the room when the deed was done. His gaze was fastened on the lifeless body as he was taken to an impromptu journey within the recesses of his mind. In that moment, the room became larger than the world ever was. He was stuck in a trance. So lost, he didn't hear the opening of a lock.   
Within seconds there was the sound of a bag dropping, and a man screaming, and doors opening, and footsteps running. It was all too much. He needed to act. He couldn't focus on the look on her face as her lips formed words he never wanted to hear. His body, out of sync with his mind, acted first and slit his throat. Lynx could only watch as the life drained from his eyes and his body buckled towards the fallen marks in a twisted form of a lovers embrace. He had a strange feeling that if things were different, maybe he wouldn’t have minded to get to know them. As an assassin, a person is taught three fundamental edicts: don't feel, don't question, and don't get caught. Lynx broke them all. 

That night, Lynx didn't complain as One dug welts into his back. He didn't complain as the knife etched patterns into his bound wrists and his sight was limited to darkness. He didn't complain as One took pleasure in deriving him of air sporadically. Lynx felt that he deserved it. 

The day was December twenty-fifth; Lynx was still thirteen. Ever since May fourth, he had stopped completely rejecting Hound's presence. The other teen's exuberant personality, while not wholly welcome, would help him forget what the scars inflicted by One wouldn't. Hound made him forget the implications that he was nothing but a failure.On some cosmic level, he felt as if Hound understood him. His extra fervent attitude when Lynx was starting to stare at his scars for far too long only solidified this belief. 

"What is your deepest desire?" Hound questioned absentmindedly. 

Lynx froze. The question was taboo, and One would condemn him for his reply. However, one look into Hound's eyes, and he couldn't help but give in to his instincts for once in his life.   
"I want a name." 

Hound hums, and nothing more was said. 

The day was March first; Lynx had turned fourteen. Hound had just grabbed him by the hand. As he glanced at their intertwined fingers, he couldn't help but notice the warmth emanating from it. He knew he would crave moments like that forever. He was about to make an uncharacteristic comment, but paused when a black cloth was placed over his eyes.

"I know you're about to protest...but hear me out really quick..." he added a dramatic pause, " you're gonna think I'm the best person ever after this!"

Lynx made a noncommittal hum as he was led by a puppy with the countenance of a young boy. When the blindfold was removed, he went rigid. The scene wasn't mesmerizing in the conventional sense, but to two wayward boys it was breathtaking. The walls were covered with an assortment of hand-drawn, detailed images: Lynx, nature, animals, and children. There were candles to illuminate the dark corners that always made Lynx feel as if he was in a cage. Tears freely slid down his face as Hound hit a button and a soft melody floats throughout the small room. He picked up the crudely baked cupcake with a toothpick , meant to impersonate a candle, and took a bite. Lynx turned to try to convey words he knew he couldn't when he saw Hound's last surprise. In his hands was a piece of paper with one word, written in beautiful calligraphy: Yuri. 

"The light of God." Hound whispered. 

The amount of love that swelled within their hearts that day couldn't be measured. 

The day was October thirty-first; Hound had turned sixteen. Yuri could not replicate what Hound had done for him, but he did try. He was silent as he looked into Hound's addictive eyes. Yuri knew, without a doubt, that the name he had chosen for the other was flawless. Hound was simply the sun. A constant entity that was reliable and bright. Something that anchors people to existence. The purest form of gold: Otabek Altin. 

The day was June third; everything was chaos. The scientists had gone ballistic and seemed to have lowered the bar for treatment regarding their toys. They seemed to have a quota that they must reach in regards to beating the assets into submission. A new child is deemed unworthy, and reprogramming now happens every week regardless of performance level. One's gaze had always been a constant in Yuri's life; therefore, it was no surprise that Yuri's eyes would twitch out of nervousness and fear when he could no longer feel black, beady eyes following his every move.The training he was put under lacked the ferocity and fire he was used to. When he looked around and saw the others being pushed past their limits, he instinctively knew what was to come. Yuri knew he had been labeled a liability and was too strong for a simplistic reprogramming. 

The day was June fourth; Yuri hadn't felt more at peace. He knows he is going to die, but he felt accomplished. The organizations grip on him was pried open to allow happiness to seep through. Yuri feels as if he understood the mark from so long ago, not truly ready for death but ready to accept it in light of current achievements. When he tells Otabek, he refuses to acknowledge his other half's tears. 

The day was July fourth; it was Yuri's termination date. It was a fairly quiet affair. One even looked at him with pity before slowly walking out the room. The room smelled of anesthetic and blood. It modeled a hospital, truly ironic in the light of its true purpose. The chair he sat in was as alabaster as the rest of the room, and he didn't protest when he was approached by the scientist that had been with him since birth. The needle was inches away from his skin before he started to squirm as sweat broke out on his skin and his hands trembled. His mouth felt dry. He regretted not telling Otabek that he wanted him in his life forever. It was centimeters away before everything erupted into blurry images; the sound of metal grinding against each other and surprised yelps were the only thing he heard. He wondered if those sounds were from him and if that was what death felt like. 

"Not yet. Not here." 

Yuri barely made out those words before a gun was thrust into his hands, and he was forcibly yanked from his chair. His body was still screaming at him, but, like the sun, he rose. Yuri stared into Otabek's eyes and glimpses the conviction of a thousand men. The other boy turned his head to the side and blushed as he cocked his gun. He didn't speak, but Yuri understood. Their hands intertwined for a split second as Otabek put a finger to his own lips and pointed upwards to a vent. Quickly getting the idea, Yuri put his hands on the other boy's shoulders as Otabek put a hand under one of his feet. The exhilarating feeling of being in the air only lasted for a second before he effortlessly pulled himself up. Pulling up Otabek, who was sculpted with nothing but pure muscle, required more effort. The silence was comforting as they crawled. Alarms soon started to blare as words were yelled in all sorts of languages, and every personnel with any form of combat training was on high alert. Yuri continued to move with a newfound certainty based solely on the fact Otabek's life was in his hands. 

Clang! The vent fell, and the two teens soon followed. Otabek shoved his head down as he fired off a few shots of his own. Yuri could feel the trail of fire that his blood left in his veins as breath quickened and beads of sweat broke out on his skin. The bullet that lodged itself into his abdomen went ignored as the adrenalin numbed the pain; however, it didn't numb him to the pity he felt as he downed his former comrades. he felt as though he and Otabek were the underdogs, Attilius, against the mighty Hilarus. No matter what Yuri did, he couldn't ignore the bubbling in his stomach as he gazed into young, cold eyes. In response, he blocked further thoughts and let his body operate on its own. 

The numbing of their feet and the tremor in their hands was the only thing that could testify to the passing of time. The only thing they knew was that the river, their salvation, was just ahead.   
"I was always applauded for raising you, Lynx," One shouted. " I now see I was right for dubbing you a failure." 

The air shifted around them. A shot rang off; however, there was no time to move. There's a pained yelp and a body tumbled off a cliff. Icy waters enveloped Yuri's frame as he struggled to stay above the surface. A second body didn't follow. A rock was quickly coming into view. The darkness beckons him to join it. 

"No!" 

Everything had gone black. 

The day was July fifth; Yuri was jaded. The water that had clung to his figure like a second skin had already evaporated under the broiling sun. His abdomen was flaring in pain. Blisters on his feet had already burst into blood and puss; each step was shorter than the last. 

The day was July Ninth, Yuri had landed in in a fairly small town. The people have strange accents and act with authentic kindness. His wounds were treated with minimal fuss, and the adults seemed stricken by the scars canvasing his skin, yet they didn't touch unless necessary. A kind,old man offered him residency. He looked weak, so he accepted. the sun burned brighter than he was accustomed to, and in contrast the nights were freezing. To his relief, the townspeople kept their questions to a minimum. 

The day was February seventeenth: Yuri had been in the city, a transcendentalist haven called Athens, for two years. Some days, he couldn't get out of bed because he was plagued with guilt. Others, he couldn't bear the calming rays of the sun because he had failed his own. Rarely, he thinks he should finish what the scientists started, forgoing the needles and killing himself faster. However, Yuri could currently count a handful of days in which he danced for no other reason than just because he could. Sometimes he even accepts hugs without flinching.He celebrates October thirty-first religiously, and mourns July fourth. He was recovering, and somewhere deep down he believed Otabek would be proud of him for it. 

"Oh, well look who it is! The prince has come down to deign others with his presence," the leader's son, Phichit, playfully yelled. 

Yuri scoffed at his actions as he contemplated the thought of making this place his true home. 

Yuri was turning nineteen today ,and he was genuinely happy. The sun was high in the sky and he was still caught in the whimsical feeling of having his birthday celebrated. Grandpa was fussing with his hair as he ate his famous Piroshki for breakfast. Yuri was surprised he still tried to tame the white ,unruly mess. His answer was always along the lines of being presentable for any random opportunity or surprise including meeting his future spouse spontaneously. He stepped out the house and was confused when he saw the usually calm inhabitants of Athens congregating near the square. Getting on his toes, he could only see three things: pale skin, onyx eyes, and black hair.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the Yuri on Ice fandom! Hello! sorry for the bad writing, i just wanted to feel like I was truly apart of this fandom.


End file.
